


Pumpkins

by GreyMichaela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Face Painting, Fluff, Insecure Gabriel, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, it's so fluffy I'm gonna die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5129345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt on Tumblr - Gabriel gets his face painted at the fair by the cute volunteer he's been crushing on for awhile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pumpkins

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a friend on Tumblr having a rough night. I AM a little sad this changes my number of posted fics from 69, but ah well. Can't have everything. ;o)

Charlie wrapped her hands around Gabriel’s arm, crowding in close in a vain attempt to share body heat. Winter in Canada seemed to descend as soon as summer was officially over, despite the calendars declaring it fall, and their breath hung in front of them in clouds.

“What are you going to get on your face?” Gabriel asked her.

Charlie shrugged, craning to see around the broad shoulders of the man in front of them.  “Depends on if Gilda’s manning the booth this year.”

The line moved forward a little more and Charlie gasped, elbowing Gabriel sharply in the ribs and making him yelp.

“Gabriel,  _you-know-who_  is up there,” she hissed.

“Voldemort?” Gabriel said, rubbing his side aggrievedly. 

The face Charlie gave him suggested she didn’t think much of his sense of humor.  “ _Sam_ ,” she stage-whispered. “Sam  _Winchester_ , the man of your dreams and the fodder for many a latenight jerkoff session, I’m sure—”

“Too much information!” the man in front of them said over his shoulder as Gabriel tried to decide whether to sink into the ground or make a run for it.

“—is up there painting faces,” Charlie finished. “And  _you_  are going to have your face painted by him and then you’re going to get his number instead of  _languishing_  over him the way you’ve been doing for the past three years.”

“Two and a half,” Gabriel said weakly as she dragged him forward another step in line.

“Semantics,” Charlie said, and shoved him, hard.

Gabriel flailed wildly and caught himself on the edge of the booth, looking up into Sam Winchester’s green-gold eyes, alight with amused concern.

“You okay there?” he asked.

Gabriel cast a glance at Charlie that promised retribution, but she wasn’t even looking at him, busy cooing at Gilda, who was blushing to the tips of her delicately pointed ears.

“I—yes,” Gabriel managed. “Um.” What was he even supposed to  _say_? Sam was everything that Gabriel wasn’t—athletic, popular, gorgeous,  _and_  smart—while Gabriel was just a snarky fuckup, quick with a joke but barely scraping by in the classes he didn’t like but was required to attend for his degree.

“Three dollars,” Sam was saying.

Gabriel blinked at him and Sam’s smile widened.

“For the facepainting,” he clarified. “Three dollars, unless you want something on both cheeks, in which case it’s five dollars total.”

Gabriel fumbled a five out of his wallet and shoved it across the uneven countertop, and Sam accepted it, tucking it into the jar that sat between him and Gilda.

“So what would you like?” he asked.

_You,_  Gabriel thought helplessly.  _Oh my god, you._  Where was his legendary sense of humor now? Why had his quick tongue deserted him just when he needed it the most?

Sam laughed quietly. “How about I surprise you?” he said, and Gabriel just nodded. He nearly swallowed his tongue when Sam took hold of his chin in those long, slim fingers and turned Gabriel’s head, but he managed to hold still as Sam dipped the paintbrush in the jar and began to work.

Sam’s fingers were warm and steady as they kept Gabriel’s head in the position he needed, and his breath feathered soft and sweet across Gabriel’s cheek. “I’ve seen you around campus,” he murmured as he moved his brush in steady, quick sweeps. 

Gabriel swallowed hard. “We… both have Mr. Ferguson for Music Theory,” he managed.

“That’s right!” Sam said as he turned Gabriel’s head and started on his other cheek. “You’re a music major too, aren’t you? What’s your area?”

Gabriel nearly nodded before he stopped himself. “Singing,” he croaked, and flinched as Sam laughed softly.

“I can’t sing a note,” Sam admitted. “But I have to know this shit if I want to write music.” He made a triumphant noise in the back of his throat and set his paintbrush down. “All done!” he said.

Gabriel blinked at him. “Are you… gonna let go of my face?” he asked.

Sam jumped and dropped his hand, a flush crawling up his throat. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“So listen,” Gabriel said before he could think better of it, “a group of us are getting together after the carnival to—” Something thumped his back and he stumbled sideways as the group of young men behind him laughed.

“Move along, Shorty, we don’t got all day!” the one who’d hit him said.

Gabriel looked at Sam, swallowing hard. Sam’s mouth was twisted unhappily but he just gestured to Gabriel's face. “I hope you like it,” was all he said, and then he turned away to begin on the next customer waiting.

That was that, then. Gabriel trudged away, shoulders drooping. He forgot about waiting for Charlie, thinking only of getting home, hiding under the covers and forgetting all about almost asking out the hottest boy on campus. Thank God he’d been stopped before Sam had to turn him down.

Charlie caught up to him before he could reach the exit. “Gabe, what the  _hell?”_ she demanded, grabbing his arm.

“I’m tired,” Gabriel said, avoiding her eyes. “Going home.”

Charlie gaped at him for a minute. “What happened?”

“Got shot down,” Gabriel said, almost managing a smile. “Can I please go now?”

Charlie caught his chin in her cool fingers and turned his head to look at both cheeks, her eyes widening. She glanced around, firmed her mouth, and began dragging him toward the public bathrooms as Gabriel protested. Inside the dimly lit, faintly echoing room, Charlie shoved him toward the bank of mirrors along the wall.

“Are you  _sure_  you got shot down?” she asked.

Gabriel stared at himself in the mirror. On one cheek was a pumpkin, round and orange, nothing too exciting about it. But on the other… on the other cheek was a  _phone number_ , and Gabriel spun to stare at Charlie, stunned.

“Is it… do you think…”

“Only one way to know for sure,” Charlie said, grinning so wide her own face paint was cracking. “Better call and find out.”

Sam answered on the second ring.


End file.
